


Need to Protect

by In_Dee



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:48:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24667885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Dee/pseuds/In_Dee
Summary: He felt the bullets slamming into his chest. It was Venice all over again, only this time he doubted he would be saved. This time he was alone among the enemy, no partner around to keep him alive.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was (with a small majority) the winner of the what-you-want-to-read-next-poll. Have fun ;)

Hetty glanced up when her young intelligence analyst skidded to a stop in front of her desk. She didn’t even have time to properly acknowledge the young woman before Nell spoke. The words were enough to forgive her for her lapse in manners though.

“Callen is in trouble.”

Xxxxxxx

Approaching the jet, he listened to the men talking around him in Russian. He mostly didn’t talk, instead let the conversation go on without his input. He wasn’t known for being talkative.

Callen glanced at the private jet. This trip had been planned for a while and even though he didn’t exactly like it, he knew it was part of his cover. Business would be done in Mother Russia and not on American soil.

The upcoming meeting was a big one, the heads of the four biggest families coming together. Aside of specific deals concerning weapons, money and drugs, there would be negotiations about division of territory as well as implementing more routes into the American government. Russia wasn’t above using the less legal business to try and gain more knowledge and leverage in other areas.

Though admittedly, with their current President, they didn’t exactly need the illegal routes. Callen scowled to himself and returned his attention to the upcoming meeting.

Things had the potential to get ugly, though he wasn’t too worried. He was close enough to the action to gain valuable Intel, but far enough away so he wouldn’t have to watch his back any more than he did here.

He had been undercover for nearly eight months now, away from his team and in a deep cover operation that had been set up by the Agency. It had been a sore spot, since he had wanted to server all ties to the CIA when he left his previous employer, but he had found over the years that no one ever _really_ left the Agency.

It had neither been his choice to partake in this op, nor had it been Hetty’s. Neither of them had had the power to stop it either.

While the Agency had planned this well, they had lost their original operative to a freak accident only shortly before he was supposed to go undercover. Being pressed for time, they had demanded Callen step in and take over.

Considering what stood at stake, he had been inclined to agree even though this operation meant returning under the CIA’s purview and being cut off from his own support system.

He had to admit though, that the role he’d been pushed into had been practically tailored to him and it had been easy to immerse himself in it.

While he didn’t exactly _want_ to work for the Agency again, it had been easy to slip back into old habits. Still, having less back-up than he was used to had grated on his nerves for the first few weeks. He had often found himself considering how to brief his team, who’s talents to employ for which aspect of the operation, only to draw up short and realize that he was on his own for the foreseeable future.

Aside of being alone in the field, he found himself also missing his technical support. The Agency’s analysts were pretty much as good as Eric and Nell, but they were more clinical and cut-throat and he didn’t really get along with them. They were professionals, but the usual friendly rapport was missing.

Callen sighed and shook his head, dragging his focus back to the here and now.

This meeting would wrap up the operation. He’d gotten more than enough data for the Agency already, had provided crucial information and had demanded to be pulled out. The previously stated goal for the operation had been met weeks ago. Then the meeting in Russia had popped up and his current supervisors had decided to prolong his stay.

To say he had been miffed would be an understatement.

It had added weeks to his undercover job, weeks of carefully maneuvering the board and the figures around him so he would be brought along on the trip.

He had secured his seat on the trip when two other key players had gone missing. Not that he knew anything about that… at all. Callen repressed the smirk.

The squealing of tires was the first indication of trouble before he felt the hairs at the back of his neck rise, tingling with the awareness of impending doom.

Callen turned, seeing and feeling the men around him turn as well.

He hadn’t even finished the turn when several bullets slammed into his chest. He gasped breathlessly, the air having been punched out of his chest by the force of the hits, while he staggered backwards and lost his footing.

Distantly, he heard the men around him starting to fire back at the van that swerved past. Falling, trying to grab for something to remain standing, he felt something else strike his shoulder from behind, adding another point of pain.

He was instantly transported back in time to another shooting, another drive-by. This time, he doubted he would be saved though. This time, his partner wasn’t there, calling for help, stemming the blood flow and imploring with him to hang on.

This time, he was alone among the enemy, among people who didn’t care one way or another if he lived or died. He didn’t matter. They would find someone else to take over his job.

Crashing to the ground, still trying to gasp for breath, he felt his awareness dimming.

Callen’s eyes rolled over when one of the men he had been about to board a jet with glanced down at him, his eyes narrowing before he shook his head and stepped away, leaving a clear view of the sky above.

Still unable to draw breath, gasping for air like a landed fish, his vision narrowed, darkness approaching and dimming his view of the bright blue California sky.

The jet’s engines rumbled to life.

Callen’s grip on consciousness faded.


	2. Chapter 2

Hetty watched her two techs shift nervously when she entered Ops.

She had known that her techs had kept an eye on the CIA’s mission involving their team leader. Their oversight hadn’t been sanctioned, but that hadn’t stopped either of the two before, a fact that Hetty had counted on. As long as she wasn’t officially aware of it, she hadn’t needed to disapprove and put a stop to it. This way, she knew that her agent had someone she trusted keeping an eye out for him.

She didn’t trust the Agency to do it, knew they often put goals above people. Callen was an experienced agent who could take care of himself, but his support in this mission had been minimal.

He had been cut off from NCIS and while Hetty knew it wasn’t the first time he worked deep cover with minimal support, she couldn’t help but worry.

So she had turned a blind eye to her techs following the case, knowing they would come to her if the case got too dangerous to ignore any longer.

A stage they had obviously reached now.

“What seems to be the matter, Miss Jones, Mr. Beale?”

The techs shared a glance before Nell turned towards her. “So we may have kept an eye--“

Hetty held up a hand, “I know what you’ve been doing regarding Mr. Callen’s CIA case,” she told them both firmly, seeing them squirm simultaneously. It was good that they did have some worry about what Hetty might do in retribution… later; after they extracted her agent. “Let’s cut the chase, shall we? Just the highlights of what is bothering you enough to bring this to me, if you will.”

Another glance was shared between the techs but before Hetty could offer a sharp encouragement, Nell stood and Eric’s fingers flew over the keyboard, information coming up on the main screen.

“So, there is a meeting coming up in Moscow, Russia. The four biggest families will be coming together. Rumor has it that members of the Russian government will also be present as they are trying to seek further inroads into the US concerning intelligence community and government. For turning a blind eye to the illegal dealings of the Mob, the Russian government will be asking for something in return.”

Eric stood and stepped up next to Nell, “it’s suspected that the Russian mafia will be offering their network and connections in exchange for the government looking the other way while they do business.”

Hetty nodded slowly. It wasn’t a big surprise. Information flowed into different directions. Sometimes it moved downstream, sometimes against the current, and sometimes it spread in all possible - and sometimes impossible - directions.

Russia had always been interested in using all kinds of channels. These days, social media was more than just a thorn in Hetty’s sight… as were key figures in their government. Shaking her head, she returned her gaze to the techs. “Alright, so what about that meeting has you worried?”

Nell sighed, “Callen will be attending. Or rather his alias Aleksei Tolstas will. He’s risen through the ranks. He’s been drawn in by the Lebedev family which has a firm grip on the West Coast and is operating out of San Diego,” Nell paused briefly before forging on, “Callen’s reports suggest that he has made headway into the family, getting close to Lebedev’s son and working on his personal security team. He gathered a lot of Intel about trade routes for weapons and drugs by attending meetings with him. The original goal of the mission had been uncovering exactly those routes. He has argued repeatedly that those goals have been met and asked to be pulled out… a request that’s been refused.”

Hetty’s eyes narrowed. Most undercover operatives usually didn’t asked to be pulled out… especially not _this_ undercover operative. Callen could be like a dog after a bone. If he got the scent of blood, he would follow the trail to the very end and bury himself in the mission. So if he asked to be pulled out, he was either worried about his security or there were other problems… possibly in the chain of command. “Who refused his recommendation to be pulled out?”

Eric frowned as he had been about to head on to some other information the techs wanted to share. He reached for his tablet and brought up the information Hetty had asked for. Hetty’s eyes settled on the name of Callen’s direct handler before shaking her head. “Above that level,” she directed, watching as both Eric and Nell worked to get her the information she required.

Hetty hissed in dismay when her eyes fell onto a name. George Stetton. Why hadn’t she known about that man being in Callen’s chain of command? “Does Mr. Callen know about Mr. Stetton’s involvement in his mission?” she asked.

The techs shared an uncertain glance and then turned back to Hetty. “We don’t know,” Nell admitted verbally, even though Hetty could have come to that conclusion from their expressions. She also saw that it bugged them, since it was their job to uncover information. Then again, this mission wasn’t theirs… technically.

Hetty waved the concern away. “Never mind. Since Mr. Stetton isn’t what you wanted to brief me on, continue with why we are here.”

There was a moment of silence while both techs refocused their attention to their original topics. “So with the upcoming meeting in Russia, Callen has been ordered to remain on the inside and continue his mission. The CIA is of course hoping for more information about the governmental aspect of that meeting,” Nell said slowly.

“We’ve looked a little closer at the attending families, trying to figure out who will be present,” Eric took over from Nell, bringing up rows of photos on the screens. One photo enlarged and took center stage, “our own naval intelligence suggests that this man will be attending…. Anton Smirnov. He’s the second in command to the Krovopuskov family head. He switched allegiance in 2004 when the Orlov syndicate was brought down.”

Hetty’s eyes moved over the pictures in the background for a moment before focusing on the man Eric and Nell had singled out. She turned her attention back to the techs when Nell spoke up again.

“The problem is that Anton Smirnov has crossed paths with Callen before… but with a different alias’ of his.”

Hetty’s features tightened in dismay.

Eric once more took over. “His cover won’t stand up under the scrutiny they will put him through in Russia once Smirnov speaks up. The alias Smirnov encountered doesn’t mesh with Callen’s current one. In fact the past of his current alias is in direct opposition to the other one in some aspects.”

Hetty turned to the techs, her eyes narrowed. That was shoddy prep-work by the Agency. “Is the CIA aware of this?” she asked.

Nell shrugged somewhat helplessly. “We can’t be certain of it.”

Which was code for _probably_. And considering who was in the chain of command, Hetty had some idea that the CIA was aware of it - at least Stetton was probably aware of it.

Mr. Stetton had worked with Callen before. They’d been together on a mission that had left Callen in enemy hands for several weeks. He’d found his way back, worse for wear and wary of his own shadow. It had taken Hetty months to restore not only his health, but also his confidence in his own capabilities.

Stetton had been one of the reasons Callen had left the CIA. The man who was supposed to have his back, had instead made decisions that had endangered his life. Before leaving the agency, Callen had - upon Hetty’s urging - filed an official complaint against Stetton.

The other man had faced some consequences, though in Hetty’s eyes they had been far too mild.

Considering that Stetton was now in the chain of command that oversaw Callen’s mission…

It was troubling to say the least. And with the information that Callen’s cover would most likely be burned in Russia… Hetty guessed it was rather safe to say that Stetton at best did not care about Callen’s safety. At worst, he was deliberately sending the operative into harm’s way.

Cold fury spread through her. “Call up the team,” Hetty told her techs, her eyes still on the information on the boards.

Xxxxxxx

There was silence in Ops for several moments after Nell and Eric had finished their briefing. Hetty watched the team closely. She had been watching them closely ever since Mr. Callen had left. They had adapted, but she had still seen there was something missing. The lead agent brought a different spin into the cases, an instinctive thought process and calm determination. Sam had done an impeccable job in taking over from his partner and the team had performed at high levels despite the absence of a key figure, but still, something had been missing from the team.

“Why aren’t we using official channels to abort the mission?” Kensi asked.

Hetty straightened slightly, making all eyes turn towards her. “That’s not an option,” she said simply. It wasn’t her story to tell and it wasn’t necessary information for the team to have to successfully plan to extract their agent.

Sam looked as if he wanted to argue, but Hetty shot him a pointed glare and he backed down.

“Can you get his contact number? We call him, say whatever code word Sam and he worked out that will make him understand it’s time to get out and all is well,” Deeks suggested spreading his hands.

Nell and Eric shook their heads. “We already tried to find his burn phone number. Nothing.”

Deeks grimaced, “there goes that idea. How about a pizza delivery to his employer’s secret lair with a secret message?”

Sam whirled round and while he had his back to Hetty, she could guess at the fury being directed at the Detective from the way Deeks shrunk back. “Stop messing around,” Sam growled.

Deeks actually took a step back, “I wasn’t… I mean…”

Hetty cleared her throat, waiting for the current team leader to turn around to face her. When he didn’t, she shifted ever so slightly. “Stand down, Mr. Hanna.”

She saw the large man tremble briefly before his frame loosened in what seemed to be a deliberate movement. She made eye contact when Sam finally turned towards her, arching an eyebrow at him. It took another moment before he backed down with a small nod.

“We could make contact with him. Finagle a chance meeting,” Kensi suggested, trying to return the debate to productive options.

Nell shook her head, “we won’t have time to stake out his routines. We don’t even know where he is right now.”

“But we know where he will be soon,” Deeks pointed out quietly, obviously not wanting to draw Sam’s ire again, “these mob families usually don’t fly commercial so once they head for the meeting to Russia, they’ll probably take their own jet.”

Sam actually gave a small appreciative nod towards the Detective and the tension in the room lowered.

Hetty approved. She knew that tempers could fly, especially since Mr. Callen was one of the more level headed of the team and wasn’t here to smooth things over. He operated with calm, sometimes cut-throat, efficiency and was slow to anger. Sam was usually similarly level headed - unless safety of his partner was concerned. In those instances, he had a rather short fuse.

“The private jet of the Lebedev family is housed at a small airport just outside of San Diego,” Eric said after several moments of silence, the techs both working in tandem again.

“And a flight plan to Moscow has been filed for tomorrow morning,” Nell added quietly.

“Then we better get on with planning,” Sam said quietly but firmly.

Their time frame was short, their window of opportunity closing quickly. They didn’t have any time to lose.

Xxxxxxx

Sam glanced up from the weapon he was checking and double-checking when Hetty entered the armory.

He remained silent under her watchful eyes, enduring her probing gaze for long moments until he cracked and glanced up. He found her eyes calm - a calmness he didn’t share.

“This is a PTSD-nightmare waiting to happen,” he eventually spoke up.

Hetty hummed in acknowledgement more than agreement.

“No, really,” Sam went on, standing and putting the gun down. He towered over Hetty, but even looking down at her diminutive form, he felt like he was the smaller one, not measuring up, “it’s like putting me into a box and shoveling dirt on top.”

Hetty’s eyes softened and she reached out, her hand landing on top of Sam’s arm. “If that ever happened again - God forbid - you’d want him to be the one to get you out and be around afterwards, wouldn’t you?”

Sam sighed, holding back the shudder upon those words, the meaning of them. Hetty was right though, his partner was the one he would want to have watching his back if one of his greatest fears ever rematerialized. He hung his head, his gaze on Hetty’s fingers that were still curled around his forearm.

“He’ll be alright, Mr. Hanna.”

Sam’s eyes flickered up to her and he gave her a pained smile, “I know. I’m not sure I will be though,” he admitted softly. Watching _that_ for a second time, even knowing this time it would be different, staged…

Hetty’s smile was encouraging though it held compassion. “Keep him safe, Mr. Hanna. Everything else will work itself out in the end.” She pattered his forearm before stepping back and leaving him alone in the armory.

Xxxxxxx

“Kensi?” Sam asked.

There were several quiet moments before she spoke up. “In position.”

Sam watched the group of people moving on the tarmac towards the waiting jet. His eyes fell onto his partner and he watched him approach the invisible line that signaled their window of opportunity. He was walking steadily, his stride even and sure, even though there was a curl of his shoulders that let Sam know he was unhappy about something - probably being here.

“I got him.”

There it was. Show time. Sam gave the order the moment Kensi gave confirmation she had Callen in her sights, “execute.”

Sam accelerated the van and sped onto the airstrip, quickly gaining ground. The slide door of the van opened moments later.

He saw his partner turning around and a few breathless seconds later, Sam watched him being cut down by the bullets Deeks fired out the side door. It was eerily similar to years ago when Sam had watched his partner being shot down in a drive-by shooting in Venice, his body jerking upon the impact of the bullets before he stumbled back and crashed into the street vendor’s cart.

This time, there was no cart to stop his fall. Instead, he stumbled back and lost his footing, trying to reach for something to brace his fall. Rationally, Sam knew that the bullets were blanks, containing blood like paint that would give the impression of bullet wounds, but watching this plot enfold was just like the nightmare from back then.

While falling, Callen’s body jerked forward as the dart containing a fast acting knock-out drug hit him from behind. Kensi had timed it perfectly, Callen’s body in enough motion so that her shot wouldn’t pitch him forward and expose the dart embedded into his back to the Russians.

Deeks exchanged his gun to one that didn’t fire blanks while they sped past the group of people. He continued firing, making asphalt spray even as he made sure not to hit any people while at the same time ensuring the hits came close enough to threaten the men into a retreat and to believe they were really being fired upon… and that the fallen man in their midst was beyond saving.

The last thing they needed was for them to get any ideas about scooping Callen up and taking him along onto the flight. Their bullets may have been blanks, but the Russians’ wouldn’t be blank once they discovered the subterfuge.

Sam swerved the car around to give them cover before he joined Deeks in shooting at the men, providing more incentive to get them going. If they discovered that Callen hadn’t actually been wounded, the situation could become even more dangerous.

Also, they had planned on extracting Callen in a way that didn’t blow his operation. This way, the information he had been undercover for would continue to be viable. The Russians would think him to be dead and so they would have no incentive to think they had been compromised.

All of them breathed a sigh of relief when the jet’s doors closed behind the fleeing mobsters and the jet quickly taxied off.

Both Sam and Deeks continued shooting without aiming.

And the whole time, Sam’s eyes were on his fallen partner. He knew Callen was not severely injured, but seeing him lying deadly still on the tarmac still hit a nerve.

As soon as the plane took off, he returned to the driver’s seat and threw the van back into drive. He screeched to a halt beside his partner moments later and both Deeks and he jumped out of the van. They didn’t take the time to do more than grab Callen and hoist him into the van before Deeks jumped into the driver’s seat while Sam took up position beside his friend.

While Sam hadn’t had the heart to take Deeks’ role in firing at his partner, he had been adamant to switch positions once they had put Callen into the van. He needed to see for himself that his friend was unharmed and Sam had the medical training necessary to watch over him.

Despite knowing that the bullets had been blanks, despite knowing that the red blotches on his shirt were paint and not blood and despite knowing that Callen was merely under the influence of a strong sedative, Sam found his fingers shaking slightly while he reached for his partner’s neck, his fingers questing for a pulse. He found it slow and steady and Sam released the breath he had been holding.

“Mission accomplished,” he announced softly.

Xxxxxxx

Awareness returned slowly and with it came the surprise of actually being alive.

Added to the general surprise of being alive, his surroundings weren’t what he might have expected to wake up to. Instead of the beeps and blips of medical equipment, the pain of injury overshadowed and dulled by painkillers, there was the hustle and bustle of an open office space.

The surface underneath him also didn’t feel like a hospital mattress but rather like a well known couch.

Callen slowly pried his eyes open. He didn’t feel quite awake, but rather felt lethargic and as if he had been drugged. Blinking his eyes into focus, his previous thoughts seemed to hold true. No hospital, no machines keeping him alive. Instead, the well known inside of their headquarters - headquarters he hadn’t been inside off for months now.

Shifting slightly, he barely bit back the yelp. Damn, his chest hurt as if he had taken multiple hits. His presence here instead of an ICU belied that expectation though.

“Take it easy partner.”

Callen glanced up at Sam. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to move, swinging his legs to the side and allowing gravity to help in propelling himself into a sitting position. He swayed in position for a moment while his sight wobbled. But damn, yes, that movement did hurt.

“Sonovabitch. What did you do? Shoot me?” he groused, his hand instinctively reaching for his chest and rubbing at sore spots - which actually did little to alleviate the pain.

Sam’s features relaxed and his lips curled into a smile. “Actually, that was Deeks.”

He glanced past Sam’s figure towards the bullpen, finding his team mate’s desk empty. “Whatever the hell for?”

“No particular reason other than extracting you before your cover could be blown,” Sam shrugged easily. There was too much nonchalance in the gesture and Callen looked more closely, seeing the way his partner was holding himself tightly.

Before he could question that though, Hetty appeared in the lounge area. “Good to have you back with us, Mr. Callen. Go freshen up. I have a nice and strong tea with restorative capabilities brewing. That should wake you up properly.”

While he had a thousand questions burning - why was he here instead of on a plane to Moscow? Why was he here instead of a debriefing room at the Agency? Oh and… what the hell had happened? - he knew better than to ask those right now. Instead, he stood, swaying for a moment or two before his equilibrium reestablished itself, and made his way to the locker room to grab a shower and find out just how big those bruises on his chest were.

Xxxxxxx

Hetty watched her lead agent leave, a slight warble in his gait, before she turned her attention back to Sam. She had watched Sam while he had watched over his partner, fretting and keeping him in his sights. She saw the anxiety of the past lurking in his eyes and in his posture.

It would likely take a while for those shadows to leave the big man’s eyes and she would make sure to let Mr. Callen know about his partner’s struggles.

In the end, those two would do what they always did: balance each other out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I admit…   
> 1) sorry for deceiving you... kinda... maybe... perhaps *g*  
> 2) this kind of ran away from me. I originally had a PTSD-nightmare for Callen in mind. That was before Sam got wind of what I intended to do and insisted that he had his own demons to confront with this plot. ;)


End file.
